


one's not half two. It's two are halves of one

by i_claudia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Gen, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-25
Updated: 2008-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, he locked himself in their flat, lying inert on the sagging mustard yellow settee they’d found on the side of the road one bright day just after they’d left school. All the days had been bright then – the sun had smiled at their exploits. So young, so successful; the world had been their oyster, and they had known it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one's not half two. It's two are halves of one

**Author's Note:**

> Written for last drabble writer standing and posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/9535.html#cutid5). (25 May 2008) Winner of ldws Viewer's Choice. 
> 
> (title is from an E.E. Cummings poem of the same name.)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, he locked himself in their flat, lying inert on the sagging mustard yellow settee they’d found on the side of the road one bright day just after they’d left school. All the days had been bright then – the sun had smiled at their exploits. So young, so successful; the world had been their oyster, and they had known it.

George didn’t feel young anymore. He was an empty husk that the war had sucked the soul out of more effectively than a Dementor; only one half of an entire whole.

His brothers came by now and then with bits of news or food from Mum. Someone – he thought it might have been Ron – had taken over the shop, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Inventions, pranks, Wheezes… they were nothing more than ashes of those brighter days. He said nothing, ate nothing, refused to move, and ignored them all until they left. When Mum came and dissolved into tears, he turned away and burrowed further into the scratchy wool of the settee cushions.

He didn’t go to the funeral, though he had to fight off his entire family when they tried to manhandle him out the door. Sitting on the cold floorboards after dodging Ginny’s parting Bat Bogey Hex, he stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks in the plaster, trying not to think. Memories slipped unbidden into his mind: Fred turning Ron’s stuffed bear into a spider, Fred finding a way to make all of their ideas for Wheezes actually work, Fred’s face indelibly etched into his mind in that last, frozen, horrible laugh.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the visions kept flooding in. Fred woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him about the idea for a Hogwarts swamp. Fred carried him out of the shop when an experiment backfired and melted all the bones in his legs. _Stop_ , George thought fiercely, pressing his palm against his forehead. He needed to make it stop. His siblings had only lost a brother – how was he supposed to go on when half of himself had been ripped away? 

He grabbed his wand, feeling determination for the first time in months. It was so simple. A few words and it would all be over. Mum might take it hard, he thought, but they’d learn to get along. They’d coped with so much already; one more death wasn’t that much to ask.

His fingers trembling, he raised the wand, placing it against his temple. He took a breath to steady himself and – 

The wand gave an almighty squawk and turned into a rubber chicken. George looked at it, momentarily stunned, before finally giving into helpless peals of choking laughter.

“Okay, brother,” he whispered, the ache in his chest not gone, but no longer unbearable. “You win.”

He got up, unused muscles protesting, and searched for his coat.


End file.
